


Into The West

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: He isn’t getting better. He won’t get better now, he knows that much, and there are worse ways to go. It’s been sudden, and swift, and there isn’t much pain. He isn’t alone.It won’t be long, he thinks with some relief, but still.He doesn’t want to go.





	Into The West

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the warning before you read on...

_Lay down_  
_Your sweet and weary head_  
_Night is falling_  
_You have come to journey’s end_

 

He’s so very tired.

No matter how long and how deeply he sleeps, he never feels rested now. The exhaustion has sunk into his bones, his very marrow. Keeping his eyes open for more than a few short moments takes more strength than it should. Lifting his hand into Hannibal’s drains him of what little he has left. Lifting his head is impossible, and has been for days now.

He isn’t getting better. He won’t get better now, he knows that much, and there are worse ways to go. It’s been sudden, and swift, and there isn’t much pain. He isn’t alone.

It won’t be long, he thinks with some relief, but still.

He doesn’t want to go.

 

_Sleep now_  
_Dream of the ones who came before_  
_They are calling_  
_From across a distant shore_

 

Hannibal speaks softly to him sometimes, when he thinks Face is asleep. He speaks when Face is awake, too, but he speaks more honestly when he thinks Face can’t hear him.

Hannibal tells him it’s okay for him to go, if he’s ready. Hannibal tells him not to stay just for him. Hannibal tells him he’s fought well, and that he couldn’t have asked for more. Hannibal tells him he loves him.

Hannibal’s voice is an anchor in the darkness, Face’s guiding light, but he sounds so very hurt. He sounds as tired as Face feels, and that simply isn’t right.

Hannibal reminds Face that BA and Murdock are waiting for him. All the friends they’ve lost over the years, through war and through illness and through stupid accidents, everyone is waiting for Face. He’ll see them all again soon.

Hannibal even starts to say that maybe Face’s parents will be there, though his voice breaks as he speaks and he can’t finish his sentence. Face wishes he could comfort him, but he hasn’t the strength. He drifts away instead, to the sound of Hannibal’s broken sobbing.

 

_Why do you weep?_  
_What are these tears upon your face?_  
_Soon you will see_  
_All of your fears will pass away_

 

Hannibal begs him not to cry, but Face didn’t even know the tears were falling. He can’t open his eyes any more, and he can barely feel Hannibal’s hand holding his own. It doesn’t hurt, though, not now.

Nothing hurts, for the first time in a long, long time. It’s utter bliss.

He doesn’t fear death. He’s stared death in the eyes countless times over the years, in times of war and in times of peace. Death is nothing. Death means an end to everything, and no more fighting. And he’s tired of fighting. So incredibly tired.

He doesn’t fear what might come after. There might be something, or there might be nothing. There might be people waiting to welcome him, with bright lights and halos or hot fires and pitchforks. There might be Someone, or no one. It’s the next big adventure, the only one he has left, and he isn’t afraid.

The only thing he fears is leaving Hannibal behind, alone.

 

_Safe in my arms  
You’re only sleeping_

 

Hannibal’s warmth surrounds him, completely and utterly, and he dimly registers the fact that he is sitting now, cradled in strong arms against a firm chest. Hannibal’s heart beats steadily beneath his ear, a calm metronome counting the final few moments he has left.

I’ve got you, Hannibal whispers, and Face feels safe. He can rest now.

 

_What can you see_  
_On the horizon?_  
_Why do the white gulls call?_

_Across the sea_  
_A pale moon rises_  
_The ships have come_  
_To carry you home_

 

It’s a beautiful night, Hannibal whispers. I wish you could see the view from your window. The moon is full, and bright. It’s so bright I can barely see the stars. But they’re there, I know they are. Shining constantly from across the universe.

Face can hear the tears in Hannibal’s voice. He wonders distantly why Hannibal is crying when the universe is so beautiful.

 

_And all will turn to silver glass_  
_A light on the water_  
_All souls pass_

 

It’s time, sweetheart.

Hannibal sounds very far away, a strange echo in his voice. 

It’s alright. I’m here, and I love you. And I think it’s time.

 

_Hope fades_  
_Into the world of night_  
_Through shadows falling_  
_Out of memory and time_

 

He drifts, and he dreams, and he doesn’t wake. 

A dark face with inscrutable eyes, transformed by a wide and bright smile. Crazy hair beneath a bright cap, bright eyes tinged with a different kind of crazy. Friends, he thinks, much loved and much missed. He can’t remember their names.

Silver hair and blue grey eyes, a weather-beaten face, all wreathed in the sweetest smelling tobacco smoke. So tall and so strong. Home, he thinks. This man is home. This man is everything.

 

_Don’t say_  
_We have come now to the end_  
_White shores are calling_  
_You and I will meet again_

 

I won’t say goodbye. I can’t.

Because I’ll see you again, my love, but not too soon, I think. I won’t follow you by my own hand, though I fear my heart is already broken. I will live the life we planned, before you fell ill, for as long as I am granted. I promise you that much.

 

_And you’ll be here in my arms  
Just sleeping_

_What can you see_  
_On the horizon?_  
_Why do the white gulls call?_

 

It’s beautiful. 

It’s peaceful.

It’s nothing like he imagined, and all the more perfect for that.

He knows he’s leaving something behind, something important and precious. Something impossible to ever replace. No, not something. Someone. Someone beloved.

But he knows he’ll find them again. 

And he lets go.

 

_Across the sea_  
_A pale moon rises_  
_The ships have come_  
_To carry you home_

_And all will turn to silver glass_  
_A light on the water_  
_Grey ships pass_  
_Into the west_

**Author's Note:**

> Written in about half an hour, and barely edited, for a songfic challenge on the Yahoo Hannibal/Face group, for the song 'Into The West' performed by Annie Lennox.


End file.
